


Golden Days (a love story in hindsight)

by TeenyTinyTony



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Fluff, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, canon typical wyverns, gratuitous fluff tropes, the author cannot be stopped and will not be stopped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24820807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeenyTinyTony/pseuds/TeenyTinyTony
Summary: As Jaskier and Geralt make their way towards their first “real” midsummer together as a couple they reflect on the midsummers that led them there.Alternative title: Three times Geralt and Jaskier didn't get to celebrate midsummer and one time they did.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 9
Kudos: 60
Collections: Geraskier Midsummer Mini Bang





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written as part of the 2020 Geraskier midsummer mini bang and is my first ever multi chapter work! Everything to do with horses is made up and probably inaccuarate, everything to do with plants and bushcraft is accurate to northern England :D

A gentle breeze ruffled through Jaskier’s hair, soothing the heat of the midsummer sun as he followed Geralt along the barely-there game trail. There was a faint smell of wild garlic on the air as the shiny green leaves crunched underfoot. The path was narrow, and meandering in the way that only paths with little worry for their destination are, but Geralt didn’t seem to be in a rush and Jaskier definitely wasn’t. 

Up ahead, Geralt pushed a bramble to the side and held it out of the way, gesturing for Jaskier to pass. As he did, Jaskier leaned in to drop a kiss on his cheek, nothing new but never getting less exciting for the repetition and Jaskier found himself smiling before he was even all the way there. He could see the moment Geralt realised what he was doing before he had even finished leaning in, golden eyes widening slightly in surprise before softening and creasing with Geralt’s shy smile. Jaskier pressed his lips to the very corner of that smile, a barely there kiss as he passed by. 

“So Geralt,” Jaskier started as he stepped away, “Are you planning on telling me where we’re going or am I just following this path until we get to wherever it leads?” Geralt said nothing, just waved Jaskier on, that smile still there on his face. Jaskier though, had not made it where he was by accepting someone not answering questions. He carried on walking, not bothering to keep the skip out of his step. 

“I mean, it can’t be too far because you’ve left Roach back in town and you’d never leave her too long-” Jaskier laughed to himself, “after all, as much as you’re doing the whole mystery date thing with me, we all know who the love of your life really is.” Jaskier paused to step over a creeping bramble and looked back over his shoulder at Geralt, who shrugged in return.

"Roach has been around longer." Geralt said, but Jaskier could hear the smile still just barely there in his tone. "Doesn't ask as many questions either. Maybe I should have brought her along-" Jaskier didn't let him get any further as he puffed up his chest in mock outrage, rounding on Geralt and blocking the path.

"After all our years together Geralt!" He cried, the picture of dismay if not for the fact he couldn't keep the smile from his face for more than half a breath. Geralt had stopped to watch, arms crossed and eyes soft. Jaskier pressed on, committed to the act now. "I've followed you across the continent and back again and this is the thanks I get! Tell me, do you compare all your lovers to Roach or is it just me?" Jaskier took a step towards Geralt, putting himself inside his space for the second time in as many minutes, and prodded the centre of his chest with his pointing finger. 

Geralt caught his hand and held it there and Jaskier found his tirade stuttering to a stop at the soft affection in Geralt's eyes. As fun as it was to make a fuss over nothing, it was impossible to hold a character when someone looked at you like the most precious thing in the world. 

"Just you." Geralt answered as he stepped around Jaskier, changing his grip on Jaskier's hand as he did so they were holding hands as Geralt pulled the pair of them onwards. Jaskier followed, only silenced for a moment. 

"So are you really not going to give me even one hint?" Jaskier asked again. 

"You were one of those children that tried to find their birthday gifts ahead of time weren't you?" Geralt answered his question with one of his own and Jaskier didn't care if he was right about it, it wasn't an answer. 

"Maybe." He allowed, "I'm a big fan of surprises but I'm used to being able to plan my reaction ahead of time." Geralt huffed by way of an answer and Jaskier thought that might be it for their conversation, but after a long pause Geralt seemed to find the words he needed. 

"Maybe today can be full of firsts for both of us then?" Geralt suggested and Jaskier found himself tilting his head in confusion as his mind scrambled for what other firsts Geralt could mean. He didn't have time to ask though because Geralt continued unprompted. "I've never shared a midsummer with someone like this," he said and he almost sounded shy there, "I want to make it special." Geralt squeezed Jaskier's hand as he talked, and Jaskier almost, almost, dropped the topic before Geralt's words fully processed and his mind set to spinning in a whole new direction. 

"This can't be your first midsummer!" The words came before thought kicked in and Jaskier wanted to kick himself a little bit but he kept talking, "I'm sure I've spent midsummer with you before, let alone anyone else-" 

"We might have been in the same place on the day, but have we ever really been together for it Jaskier?" Geralt looked back, raising one eyebrow in the way he only did when he knew he was right. Jaskier frowned and looked down at his free hand as he started counting off the years since he met Geralt with his fingers against his thigh. Geralt was right in that it had been a few years of knowing each other before they had been travelling together regularly and even then midsummer was a busy time for both of them but they must have at some point? Surely? He made it through five and flipped his hand over to start counting on the other side before he found a year they had been together. 

"The year with the wyvern!" He said, triumphant. He grinned at Geralt. "We were together for that!" 

"True." Geralt agreed and Jaskier grinned impossibly wider, "I did fight the wyvern on midsummer, but I hardly think that-" 

"I fought the wyvern." Jaskier cut in, already on a roll and unwilling to give an inch "I mean you helped but I was definitely involved." Geralt shook his head fondly.

"You and I have very different memories of that day." 

* * *

It was an exceptionally still day and the heat was oppressive in its intensity, but the most frustrating thing was that Geralt had left him at camp while he ventured the short distance down the mountain to the mouth of the cave below. Jaskier had followed, of course, but before he had even made it out of sight of his lute, Geralt had caught him. 

Jaskier had been carried back to camp over Geralt's shoulder and when Jaskier had made it clear this would not stop him from following, Geralt had put him down on the floor with rather more force than necessary and proceeded to steal his boots. Jaskier could do nothing but watch as the bastard took his boots and scaled the cliff they were camping under, leaving his boots nestled on a ledge far beyond his reach. Jaskier had shouted after him, even thrown a stone once the witcher had reached the top of the cliff and turned to look back, but it made little difference as Geralt walked away. 

Jaskier had been left with nothing to do but wait as the sun and temperature climbed together towards a truly uncomfortable midday heat. After an hour or so he had taken off his socks and rolled his trousers up, leaving his doublet neatly folded with the rest of his things. 

There was a brook a short walk away and he was carefully weighing the benefits of the cool water on his skin over the discomfort of walking there barefoot, cursing his misfortune to have befriended the single most bullheaded man on the continent the entire while. He was halfway through a particularly satisfying ramble on the poor manners of picking someone up that way to begin with if you weren't intending to follow through when he had been interrupted by a screech from above him. 

He squinted up the mountain, trying to find the source of the noise. He watched in dismay as a dark mass of scales and wings crawled out of a previously unknown cave entrance, screeching all the while. It launched itself from the mountainside and its wings snapped open, leaving Jaskier no doubt that this was in fact the wyvern Geralt had been contracted to kill and that something had gone very very wrong. Despite the heat of the day he couldn't help but shudder as it's shadow passed over him. It wheeled in the air, and Jaskier realised several things so quickly one after the other that he would be hard pressed to tell you which had come first.

Of least importance- the bright white of his shirt and the powder blue trousers did not blend in against the dark rock face behind him, nor would they offer him any protection in a fight. Usually this would not be an issue, except for the next thing he had noticed. There was little to nothing around him that would provide cover from a determined wyvern, and nothing at all that he could reach in time. 

Most importantly, the wyvern was coming towards him and he was out of time. 

He backed against the cliff, watching the wyvern descend. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears as the sun glinted red off the bloody claws of the beast. It was almost funny, he had never been so aware of his own breathing before. 

He breathed in. His back hit the rock face, uncomfortably hot against his sticky skin. He breathed out. The wyvern brought it's legs forward like a bird of prey about to take a mouse. One last breath. He threw himself to the side. 

There was a clatter and the shriek of claws gouging stone as the wyvern crashed into the rock face, smacking its body against the cliff and bouncing off. More upsetting was the visceral crunch of bone as it landed on its back, followed immediately by a roar of pain. Jaskier scrambled to his feet, determined to put as much space between himself and the wyvern as possible. 

It pushed itself upright and Jaskier saw the white of bone for a moment as it's wing folded in sickening new ways. The wyvern met his gaze and Jaskier found that all thoughts of poetry had fled his mind as he saw nothing but hatred staring up at him. He vaguely remembered something Geralt had once said about a wyvern who couldn't fly being destined to starve before long and felt a vicious sort of satisfaction. 

"Looks like I've killed you," he said, before a giggle bubbled up from nowhere, high and unhinged, "we're both going to die here and there's not a thing either of us can do about it." The wyvern started to move towards him and Jaskier noted with grim pride that it was limping, favouring it's right leg. Jaskier kept moving away from it, trying to circle around it to where his pack was sitting, his scarce-used dagger tucked away with his spare journal. Jaskier had never before given up without a fight and he didn't intend to start now. Before he could reach his goal, the wyvern swung it's remaining wing at him in a wide arc and Jaskier found himself flat on his back. 

He gasped helplessly, winded from the impact. He scurried backwards, away from his pack but away from the wyvern too. The creature seemed to realise it had him now as it stalked forwards. It caught his leg in its talons and pulled, and Jaskier could do nothing to resist as he was brought beneath it. It glared down at him and bared its teeth, dripping with blood tinged spittle. He bared his own teeth right back.

"Go on then! I haven't got all day!" He shouted up at the wyvern, the universe, and any god who happened to be listening. Jaskier did not close his eyes. 

And so he saw it as Geralt came pounding into the campsite, eyes wild, one arm hanging awkwardly at his side and the other clutching his sword. The wyvern turned towards the noise and screamed its frustration as Geralt pounced, knocking the beast away from Jaskier and onto its back. The snarling could have been Geralt or the wyvern, Jaskier wasn’t sure.

Jaskier turned his head to watch, just in time to see Geralt’s silver blade disappearing into the wyvern’s soft underbelly. The wyvern breathed one last rattling breath, then fell still. Jaskier sighed, and let his head fall back against the ground, finally closing his eyes. He lay there and relished the heat of the sun on his face and the slowing of his thundering heartbeat as he heard the scrape of stones moving underfoot, coming closer. A shadow crossed his face, and he opened his eyes.

For a moment, he was blinded, the sun behind Geralt’s head forming a dazzling halo and seeming to set his hair alight. As Geralt leaned forward, the halo dimmed and Jaskier could see that Geralt was bleeding from a small cut above his eyebrow, but more importantly there was an expression on his face that Jaskier didn’t recognise. 

“Are you okay?” Geralt asked, and Jaskier found that he wasn’t sure. He ran a mental inventory of his bumps and scrapes before looking down at the leg the wyvern had caught, wincing at the damage to his trousers. His leg, on the other hand, seemed largely fine at a glance. He wiggled his toes to be sure. 

“Despite all the odds, I think my pride might have been the worst hit.” Jaskier had said, the grin on his face half dizzy relief and half so that he didn’t start crying. Geralt huffed and Jaskier wasn’t sure but there might have been a smile there for a moment. He offered a hand down to Jaskier, who reached up to take it. He hauled Jaskier up to his feet.

“You’ll have to keep trying if you want rid of me.” Jaskier said, swaying slightly on his bare feet. “Now let’s have a look at that arm.” A thought crossed his mind as he stepped forward and onto a particularly sharp stone. His smile dropped. “Geralt?” 

“Hmm?” Geralt answered, seemingly unbothered.

“If you’ve fucked your arm up,” Jaskier started, before his tone turned from conversational to accusing, “how do you suppose I’m going to get my boots back?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [art for this chapter is by @goshdraws and can be found here!!](https://goshdraws.tumblr.com/post/621566826769514496/for-boot-prints-lovely-fic)


	2. Chapter 2

“It would have taken you a lot longer if I wasn’t there to cripple the beast for you.” Jaskier asserted. There was no real fire in his argument but they had spent long enough over the years debating Jaskier’s presence on hunts that it did make a pleasant change to have made an undeniable contribution. Geralt shrugged and didn’t look back. 

“Might have been back in time for the midsummer celebrations if it hadn’t been for your boots.” Geralt said and Jaskier felt the telltale warmth on his cheeks of a blush. It had taken him nearly an hour to feel steady enough on his feet to attempt the short climb for his boots, even with Geralt calling out guidance from the base of the cliff. By the time he had made it safely down with his boots, the heat had gone from the day and while the climb down to the nearby village would have been possible, it wouldn’t have been pleasant. They had sat and watched the clouds roll in for a starless night and then walked down in the early morning light just as the rain had started coming down in a fine mist. 

“You know Geralt?” Jaskier said, swinging their joined hands slightly, “for all that the actual reasons for it weren’t ideal, it was still a lovely evening.” He paused, watching Geralt for a reaction, “I wouldn’t mind counting it as our first midsummer.” Geralt shrugged and before Jaskier could continue he pulled him forwards by their joined hands. The next thing Jaskier knew he was face to face with Geralt with barely half a step between them. Golden eyes almost seemed to glow in the sunlight under a familiar frown. Jaskier could almost hear the thoughts whirring as his witcher reasoned out his next sentence. He waited, happy to give Geralt the time he needed. 

“We weren’t celebrating it then, didn’t even know the date til you asked the ealdorman about his hangover while he was paying us.” Geralt said, the frown easing as he found the right words. “It seems to me that if we’re celebrating together we should know we’re doing it.” He let go of Jaskier’s hand, only to bring his hand up to Jaskier’s jawline instead, thumb gently brushing over his cheek. 

“I mean, technically-”

“Technically nothing Jaskier, it can’t count if we didn’t know it was midsummer.” Geralt was smiling again now, his hand warm and soft against Jaskier’s cheek. He leaned in and dropped a kiss on Jaskier’s cheekbone before stepping back and pulling his hand away. Jaskier found himself running his own fingers over the spot for a moment before Geralt shepherded him on. Jaskier took the lead once again, the path clear even if it was winding. 

“Would you count it if we both knew it was midsummer then Geralt?” He asked as he walked. “Because I seem to remember seeing you at a solstice celebration about three years since.” Jaskier smiled, not trying at all to sound anything other than smug. 

“Jaskier, you know exactly why I’m not counting that one.” Jaskier heard the sigh in Geralt’s voice and honestly, he did understand.

* * *

Jaskier had performed on hundreds of stages since he had set out from Oxenfurt, and loved every single one. This though, this felt like something special. The stage almost seemed to sway as he led the other hired musicians in a fast paced dance number. Down below the people of Harviken were dancing round what was set to be a truly impressive bonfire, feet stomping with the beat and shaking the very earth of the town square. His fingers moved up and down the neck of his lute, almost a dance in and of itself as the speed and the energy of the dance climbed ever higher. It was easy to lose himself in the music, especially in a song without words like this one.

The townsfolk moved as one, yellow ribbons trailing from their wrists as they circled the bonfire, voices raised in a song that had been around almost as long as the town itself. In an atmosphere like that, when even those not involved in the dance itself were stomping and shouting in time, it was laughably easy to spot anyone who didn’t belong. Jaskier noticed that Geralt wasn’t moving with the music before he actually registered that Geralt was there at all. He hadn’t been expecting the witcher to be back in town for almost another week but there he was; unmistakable. 

Jaskier didn’t linger on thoughts of Geralt, the music sweeping him back up as he whirled around the stage, stomping his own feet as the song grew faster still. The dancers swirled. The music swelled. The dancers raised their hands, all of them facing the unlit fire as the music reached its peak. Then, silence. As loud, if not louder than all the noise leading up to it. It lasted all of four beats, but each one seemed more momentous than the last. Then one final stomp and a cheer so deafening that even Jaskier was taken aback. 

The dancers finally broke rank, becoming butchers and bakers and fishermen once again as they laughed and clapped each other on the shoulders and generally celebrated however struck their fancy. Jaskier too broke rank, knowing that this would be the last chance for a break before the formalities were over and the festival would be truly underway. They didn’t need a bard while the local witch lit the flame. 

He slung his lute across his back, nodded to the other musicians and then hopped down from the low stage to the celebrations below. He didn’t even consider stopping at the stalls round the edge of the square, though they were boasting all kinds of pastries and sweets. Geralt was meant to be on a boat chasing down some sort of trouble and if he was already back here then Jaskier reckoned there must be some sort of story in it. He could always grab a bite to eat while he grilled Geralt for the details, or at least enough of the shape of his adventure that Jaskier could be sure he was okay and not hiding any injuries. 

Scanning the crowd, Jaskier made his way to where he had spotted Geralt before and sure enough there he was. He was watching the proceedings by the fire with a strange look on his face.

“Geralt!” Jaskier called, weaving through the crowd. Geralt looked his way and a broad smile split his features and Jaskier blinked, startled, before smiling back. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Geralt smile like that. It didn’t fit him. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt pulled Jaskier the last few feet towards him, pulling him into a one armed hug of greeting. Every part of Jaskier froze for a moment in surprise before Geralt released him. “It’s good to see you.” he said, like there was nothing unusual about hugging Jaskier, like Geralt was somebody who hugged at all. 

“You as well, I wasn’t expecting to see you back on land for at least another week, let alone here!” Jaskier said, scanning Geralt’s face for any obvious oddities, blown pupils or the like. Maybe he was just drunk on the atmosphere in Harviken and the booze that was flowing like water, but Jaskier liked to be sure. 

“The job didn’t turn out to be what it looked like, didn’t even have to leave port.” Geralt shrugged, and there was that smile again, putting Geralt’s teeth on show and Jaskier’s on edge. There was a whooshing sound followed immediately by a loud cheer behind Jaskier and he turned just in time to see the shower of sparks from the bonfire climbing into the dusky sky. The bonfire itself had lit like dry grass, the flames bright and bold. The townsfolk were gathered around the ealdorman and the local witch, who seemed to be nearly done with their part of the celebration now the fire was lit. Jaskier’s break was going to be even shorter than he had planned. 

“You’ll have to promise to tell me about it later!” Jaskier told Geralt, already glancing towards the stage. “For now though, duty calls!” He flashed Geralt a wide grin that even he knew wasn’t quite reaching his eyes before he turned tail and headed towards the stage. 

It had not been a moment too soon, as almost before Jaskier had finished his journey back to the stage he heard the ealdorman bringing the formalities to a close and bidding the crowd to eat, drink and be merry. As part of the merriment Jaskier launched into a jig, one of the more child friendly in his songbook but one that nearly anyone on the continent could sing along to. He tried to push all thoughts of Geralt acting strangely from his mind and pour himself into the performance. It was probably nothing, and besides, this was where his real work would begin as the music would be expected to last well into the night, and he fully expected song requests would get bawdier and bawdier as the night progressed. 

Before long Jaskier did find himself getting swept up in the singing, the dancing, the atmosphere of a good party, and let the earlier strangeness slip his mind. The light was fading fast now but the heat and light and warmth of the bonfire was more than enough to keep the party and Jaskier going as he bounced from song to song, enjoying being almost, but not quite, centre of attention. The night passed him by in a blur of stomping feet and brightly coloured ribbons, fingers and feet both dancing. 

More out of habit than anything he scanned the crowd for the telltale white hair of his witcher, expecting to see him lingering around the bar that had been constructed towards the edge of the square. He didn’t let it break his stride when Geralt wasn’t there, but once he had noticed the absence it wouldn’t leave his mind as he progressed to the next song. 

Maybe Geralt was hurt and trying to cover it up, Jaskier reasoned with no small pang of hurt. It would explain the oddly friendly behaviour earlier if he was overcompensating for something, as well as disappearing during a performance. They had been travelling together on and off for years now, and Geralt rarely left before Jaskier had finished performing, despite his supposed dislike of the singing. It was just, Jaskier had thought they were at a point in their friendship where Geralt would have admitted to an injury rather than try to cover it up like that. Especially if it was bad enough that that strange smiling facsimile of normality was the best Geralt could do. 

In the end Jaskier decided that whatever injury Geralt was nursing was more important than the one to his feelings, and neither would benefit from Jaskier dwelling on the situation now. He only had a few final songs to perform before he would be finished for the night and he could get to the bottom of things. 

The last three songs of the night seemed to last longer than any Jaskier had ever played, and he knew that his performance was starting to show cracks. He could pass it off as reaching the end of the night and running short on energy, probably, but he was more relieved than anything when the final note faded into the cheering of a rather more drunk crowd than he had started with. He bowed, and led the crowd in applauding the other three musicians on stage before finally excusing himself and heading out. 

There were two inns in Harviken, or rather one inn and one large house renting out rooms for the influx over midsummer, but only one of them had a stable so Jaskier made a beeline for it. As he passed the stable, he heard Geralt’s voice coming from the building and let himself sag with relief. Then the words started to process and Jaskier’s brow furrowed in confusion and worry. For all it was Geralt’s voice, it didn’t sound like the man he had come to know. 

“You’re not needed here.” Geralt hissed, his voice colder and sharper than his blade. “Leave, and I’ll take good care of things.” Jaskier found himself flinching at the venom in that tone, and his stomach flip flopped through several emotions before settling on anger. Geralt might be hurting but that did not warrant cruelty to whoever he was talking to. He made his mind up to go interrupt and give him a piece of his mind. 

“Leave now and I won’t follow.” Geralt’s voice again, but different this time. It sounded tired, and while it was undeniably angry the cruelty from before was certainly less, if it was there at all. Jaskier still hadn’t heard anything from whoever Geralt was threatening as he stepped gingerly towards the stable door. 

“You forget, I know everything about you now,” Geralt sneered as Jaskier opened the door and stepped through. Jaskier froze. Geralt froze. The second Geralt, stood facing his double with teeth bared, also froze. For a moment nobody moved. 

Jaskier looked from one Geralt to the other, trying to process exactly what it was he was looking at. The two Geralts were staring back at him. There was no discernible physical difference, both of them were wearing the same worn armour, the same swords strapped to their back, the same loose strand of hair that just never would stay in the ponytail hanging by their ear.

“Get behind me.” one of the Geralts growled at Jaskier, that same tone that he always used when Jaskier found himself in a danger that he wouldn’t strictly necessarily have been in had he stayed away from the hunt to begin with. 

“Jaskier don’t.” The other growled in the exact same tone. Neither of them stopped looking at Jaskier. He looked from one to the other. He thought he would know. He honestly believed he would be able to tell. He couldn’t. He stepped back instead, away from them both. 

The reaction was immediate from both of them. The one who had spoken to him first snarled in frustration, the same way Jaskier had seen Geralt snarl at monsters after they had landed a solid hit. Jaskier had never been on the receiving end of that snarl before and he had a new sense of sympathy for every monster that ever had been. That wasn’t important right now though, because the other Geralt had also made a familiar expression, also one that Jaskier had never been the recipient of before now. 

Geralt flinched. Ever so slightly. Nobody who hadn’t travelled with Geralt for years would have spotted it, a barely there widening of the eyes and the smallest intake of breath, but Jaskier had seen it a thousand times. It was the same flinch every time someone refused to serve Geralt, every time he was made unwelcome, every time someone called him butcher. He doubted Geralt even knew he did it. It had been happening less and less lately, but it hurt Jaskier every time to see it, and it hurt more now to see it and know he had caused it. 

There was no doubt in his mind which was the real Geralt. 

“Now then Geralt, and well, Geralt.” Jaskier said, nodding at both the doppler and Geralt, because he was sure that must be what was happening here. “The two of you seem to be having a slight dispute here on who should get to stay and enjoy the evening’s festivities.” Neither Geralt moved, so Jaskier continued, a performer’s smile covering the absolute turmoil he was feeling. 

“Now, I’m sure you’ll both agree that beyond the two of you, I am the most qualified person to make this decision?” He took a step forward towards the centre of the two of them. “Who could pick a better white wolf than I, who has chronicled your deeds for a decade? Surely nobody here, and maybe nobody on the continent.” He stepped forward again, closer to both of them and further from the safety of the door. 

“Bard-” The doppler growled in Geralt’s voice, and it really was a passable impression of Geralt when he was at the end of his rope with Jaskier. Geralt merely glared. 

“Now, I don’t know about you two but I have had far too nice a day for bloodshed, and I think we could come to an agreement here. The two of you both seem to think the other should leave, is that right?” Jaskier asked, coming to a stop in the exact centre of the two of them, looking back and forth between them as first the doppler and then Geralt nodded. “If the two of you agree, I’ll pick a white wolf. The other will leave peacefully and we can all avoid getting hurt.” Jaskier looked from one to the other, near identical expressions of unease on each face. 

“Fine.” The doppler said, glaring at Geralt, “I trust you.” Jaskier looked to Geralt, one eyebrow raised. After a long moment he sighed. 

“Okay.” He agreed, and Jaskier fought hard to not let the relief show on his face. They might even make it through this unscathed. 

“Now, we’re all agreed that there will be no bloodshed. If I do choose the true Geralt then the other will have to choose a new face and leave in peace. If it turns out that I do not know Geralt as well as I think, the Witcher will leave.” Jaskier stared at them each in turn until they nodded agreement. He sighed, and looked from one to the other, trying to make it look as if he was sizing them up, play acting a decision he had made before he even offered them the choice. The way he saw it, the doppler was more likely to accept a loss based purely on chance. After a tense moment, Jaskier moved towards Geralt. 

The movement was instant, as soon as he was in reach Geralt grabbed him by his doublet and put himself between Jaskier and the doppler. Jaskier watched from behind Geralt as the doppler made a face like his heart was breaking. Even knowing that it wasn’t Geralt Jaskier couldn’t suppress a wince. That was apparently what the doppler was aiming for though as almost as soon as Jaskier had shown weakness the doppler grinned, that same toothy smile that had put Jaskier on alert earlier. 

It took one step towards them and Geralt growled, a low rumbling sound, full of menace. The doppler raised both of his hands, an obvious show of surrender, the grin still on its face. 

“Now now Geralt,” It said, no longer making the effort to reflect Geralt’s mannerisms. “A deal is a deal.” It smiled impossibly wider, before its face started to ripple and change. It ran one hand through its hair and ruffled it and as it did the hair changed from brilliant white to a much more common brown, falling over the doppler’s forehead. The hand itself became dantier, broad fingers becoming longer, narrower. Geralt’s armour and swords melted away, giving way to fine silks and embroidery. Jaskier felt his gut drop as the change finished, and the doppler looked back at him out of his own eyes. 

It was similar to the feeling of seeing his reflection in a warped mirror, and at the same time nothing like that at all. The doppler was his perfect double, from tiny scuff on his boot from when he had accidentally kicked the stage earlier all the way up to the performer’s smile that Jaskier had once spent hours practicing in front of a mirror. And yet. Unlike when Jaskier was dealing with his own reflection, the doppler did not move when he did, did not blink, and most upsettingly, did not stop smiling. That same toothy grin that had looked so out of place on Geralt’s face looked almost plausible on Jaskier’s, except for the fact that Jaskier wasn’t smiling. Geralt pushed Jaskier further behind him, one hand reaching back for his sword. 

“This isn’t what we agreed.” He said, and Jaskier could feel the anger in his voice more than hear it. 

“On the contrary dear,” The doppler said, “This is exactly what we agreed. I choose a new face and I’ll be gone by morning.” 

“Choose again.” Geralt snapped. 

“How about this? Since this face bothers you so, I’ll just keep it for tonight. By morning I’ll be on my way with a whole new look and we can forget we ever crossed paths.” The doppler spoke in the exact same measured tone Jaskier had used before when bargaining with it and Geralt. Jaskier didn’t like it as much from this side. Geralt looked like he was about to argue, but Jaskier got there first. 

“Done. I’m about ready to turn in for the night anyway.” Jaskier agreed. The doppler laughed, a brittle sound, so different to how Jaskier would. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He added as an afterthought. 

“But Jaskier darling, that leaves me so many options.” The doppler seemed downright delighted now, “I’ll tell you what, just for this I won’t even hold a grudge against you for cheating. I’m good, but I never could fool someone in love.” It waved, and then skipped out of the stable as if it hadn’t just shattered Jaskier’s world. 

The thing was, Jaskier hadn’t really thought about it like that before. He would follow Geralt to the ends of the world if Geralt asked, he knew that. He had known that for years now. He knew that when Geralt smiled, that barely there quirk of the lips and softening of the eyes that you had to be eagle eyed to spot at all, Jaskier felt his own happiness bubble up in response. He knew that he wanted to see that smile as often as possible. He knew that he loved being around Geralt, and that he hoped Geralt enjoyed being around him in turn. He hadn’t necessarily pinned all those feelings down to any specific word yet though, and the doppler doing it for him was really coming as a bit of a shock. He was in love. When had that happened? Some of that shock must have shown on his face because Geralt was looking at him with concern, brows drawn close and low. 

“Jaskier, are you okay?” Geralt asked, putting himself between Jaskier and the stable door. 

“I’m fine Geralt, but I think we could both use a rest after that.” He said, gesturing vaguely towards where the doppler had been. “I don’t know about you, but I found that whole experience to be distinctly uncomfortable and I would rather put a night’s rest between me and it as soon as possible.” 

“No, yeah, you’re right.” Geralt said, nodding.

“I already have a room, and I doubt he has any intention of sleeping in it if you want to join me?” Jaskier offered, “I can’t imagine there’ll be any other rooms left by this point.” Jaskier did not offer the secondary reason, that after the events of the night he would sleep better knowing Geralt was there. That he wasn’t sure he wanted to let Geralt out of his sight until they had left Harviken, and indeed the entire island of Faroe, behind them. Thankfully Geralt seemed to be of a similar mindset, if the way his shoulders relaxed at the suggestion was anything to go by. Geralt nodded, and Jaskier led the way to bed. 


	3. Chapter 3

“Do you know Geralt, you’re absolutely right on that one. I’m not actually sure I saw you before midnight at all that year so it can’t count.” Jaskier said, conceding the win. The doppler had been one of the strangest experiences of his life, and even three years later he still had to suppress a shudder if he thought on it overlong. 

"You took a stupid risk that day." Geralt said, and Jaskier couldn't see his face but he knew exactly the frown that came with that tone of voice. Jaskier shrugged and kept walking. It wasn't the first stupid risk he had taken and he was sure it wouldn't be the last. Geralt sighed heavily. 

"You were there, I knew I was safe." Jaskier said, the picture of nonchalance as he skirted around a large holly bush and used the chance to look back at Geralt. That frown was creeping in and Jaskier didn't like it one bit. "You're faster than any doppler and you wouldn't have been telling it to leave if you thought it was really dangerous. I was never in any real trouble." He said, reassuring tone only slightly diluted by that same nonchalance. 

"And if you had picked wrong?" Geralt asked, the beginnings of hurt in his voice. Jaskier's eyes widened slightly with surprise and understanding as the pieces dropped into place. 

"I knew which one was you before I even offered that option Geralt." He said, all levity gone from his voice now "I would never have offered to choose if I didn't know for sure."

Geralt made a noise like all the air had been forced out of him and Jaskier found himself pinned under Geralt's gaze. He couldn't quite read his expression but there was something like wonder in his eyes.

"You knew that before now, didn't you?" Jaskier asked, already knowing the answer and not liking it one bit. 

"I've seen you bet your life on much worse odds than that." Geralt's voice was quiet, so much so that Jaskier had to strain to hear it over the birdsong and the breeze. 

"Never yours." Jaskier said, his voice moving faster than his thoughts. This was a fundamental truth of who he was, he didn't have to think about it. Geralt made a questioning noise and Jaskier kept talking. "I would never bet you on anything other than a certainty. I hadn't realised it before the doppler threw it in my face but I loved you even then. I wouldn't-" 

"That's when you knew?" Geralt interrupted, his voice soft but so much more there than it had been just moments before. The crunch of his footsteps was the only warning Jaskier got before Geralt swept him up and off his feet. He found himself pressed against Geralt, front to front, his toes barely grazing the tops of Geralt's boots and sturdy arms holding him up around his middle. He wrapped his arms around Geralt's shoulders, taken aback but enjoying the abrupt show of affection. 

"You always were quicker to figure things out." Geralt murmured into his collarbone, his forehead resting on Jaskier's shoulder. Jaskier laughed, bringing one hand up to stroke through Geralt's hair. 

“I mean, not really? I did rather have it thrown in my face there.” He huffed, “That doppler really was a bit of a bastard about it actually even if it was right.” 

“At least you took the push and realised, it took me a little longer.” Geralt said, reshuffling Jaskier in his arms so he had a steadier grip. 

"Nice of you to finally catch up." Jaskier said, using his newly elevated position to drop a kiss on the top of Geralt's head. "You were only three years behind." 

"Two." Geralt corrected, absolute certainty in his voice. "Exactly two years behind." He looked up at Jaskier with eyes like honey, warm and loving and golden. Jaskier looked back, not bothering to hide his confusion. 

"You mean-" he started, finding that words were slipping out of his grasp as quickly as he could summon them "but it was- Geralt- the rain and the village and everything and that- " Geralt smiled up at him and Jaskier stopped talking.

"I realised when we were in the farmhouse." 

* * *

The rain had started nearly three days before, and it hadn’t slowed for a moment since. The road beneath Jaskier’s feet was lost to the newly formed river of mud and rainwater, and one of his boots had sprung a leak and squelched uncomfortably with every other step. It was, in a word, miserable. Up ahead Geralt looked no happier, leading Roach with his head hunched against the rain. 

Any other day, any other storm, and Jaskier would have been speaking at length on every single minor inconvenience of this just for something to break the silence, but on this occasion he found himself biting his tongue. He did not trust himself to hold his anger in check and right now that was not helpful. 

The one silver lining of this entire day of trudging through this never ending rain had just gone up like so much silver smoke and Jaskier was seething with rage. Not for himself, because after all, he had chosen to turn his back on a warm inn and a chance to sing for his supper. Not that it had been much of a choice to make. 

The recipient of his ire was the matronly woman bussing tables who had taken one look at Geralt and had declared him to be a bad omen, just one more sign of things going wrong. It was the balding man with the jolly face who had informed Geralt in no uncertain terms that they didn’t have any room for his kind in their town. It was the group of patrons who had smiled at Jaskier and his lute when he entered and turned vicious the moment Geralt had followed him through the door. Jaskier hated every single one of them. 

He had half a mind to go back and rant and rage and scream until they understood but experience told him that would just lead to violence. He wasn’t sure that violence wasn’t exactly what he wanted, honestly. Lightning flashed overhead and Jaskier found himself counting the seconds without really thinking about it, distracting himself from everything else around him. Twenty six seconds later the thunder rolled overhead, louder than drums and Jaskier cursed quietly. 

“That storm is coming closer.” Jaskier said, “It’s less than five miles out now.” 

“Hmm.” Geralt responded, monotonous even by his standards. 

“I hope it takes their whole sodding village.” Jaskier said, more to himself than to Geralt. “Just washes them all away and down the river, then maybe someone with half a heart and enough sense to know you’re worth ten of them can come in and build something better.” Jaskier was building steam now, angry and bitter. 

“Jaskier.” Geralt interrupted him before he could go any further, voice sharp. Jaskier looked up at him, just as wet as Jaskier and leading Roach along. Even with his armour Jaskier could see the slump of his shoulders and the way he was almost dragging his feet. His hair dripped and Jaskier followed a raindrop with his eyes as it rolled down Geralt’s forehead and nose before catching at the downturned corner of his mouth. Geralt’s whole face screamed hurt. 

Jaskier’s anger suddenly seemed so unimportant as his heart dropped down into his leaking boots. Geralt looked one wrong word from sitting down on the side of the road and letting the storm have its way with him and here was Jaskier raging at something neither of them could change. He needed to focus. His priority needed to be Geralt right now. 

“Right, sorry.” Jaskier said, pushing his anger firmly out of his voice. It could wait. "What are our chances of finding somewhere out of this rain to sleep tonight?" He asked, not hopeful but needing something more concrete to worry about. Rather than the shake of the head he was expecting in response though, Geralt frowned as if he was deep in thought. Jaskier very carefully did not get his hopes up. A fat raindrop ran down the back of his neck and into his shirt. 

“There might be a farmhouse.” Geralt said, and Jaskier felt the very beginnings of hope starting in his stomach entirely without his permission. “It was a shell last time I was there, but it had a roof at least.” He said, almost apologetic. 

“At this point I would take a hollow tree, a roof sounds magnificent.” Jaskier said, and the optimism sounded a little forced even to his human ears but every word of it was honest and Geralt seemed to pick up on that because the tension in his shoulders eased ever so slightly. Jaskier hadn’t realised quite how much Geralt’s misery had been pouring off him until it eased, but now he had and he was already on track to lightening it. 

“How far is it?” Jaskier didn’t particularly care about the answer, beyond the fact that it would keep Geralt talking and give them both a goal beyond the ongoing trudge through the storm. Jaskier’s boot continued to squelch while Geralt thought it over, his sock thoroughly waterlogged now. 

“Maybe half a mile, if I remember rightly.” Geralt eventually answered and Jaskier could have sung with relief. He had been expecting much worse than half a mile, they may even make that before the storm caught up with them. 

“You hear that Roach? We’re going to get you out of this rain!” Lightning flashed as if to emphasise Jaskier’s point and he fell silent as he waited for the thunder. He did not have to wait long. The thunder felt like it was in Jaskier’s bones, a sudden boom followed by a rumble that shook his ribcage and rattled his teeth. It eventually trailed off into silence and Jaskier couldn’t quite suppress the shudder that ran up his spine. 

He looked at Geralt, Geralt looked back. Neither of them spoke for a moment. 

“We should-”

“That was-” 

“Yeah” 

Agreement reached, the two of them and Roach redoubled their speed, the threat of the storm looming over them as the rain came down in never ending torrents. The waterproofing on Jaskier’s other boot gave way as they walked, the cold trickle of a slight leak quickly progressing to a consistent squelch of cold water. At least it matched the other one. 

When Geralt pulled the three of them off the path Jaskier could have wept with joy to see the farmhouse. It was a dilapidated building to begin with, even before time and the elements had done their part. It looked like it might have been a sheep farmer’s lodging, simple and squat and clearly unlived in for a long time. The window was a few shards of broken glass clinging valiantly to a rotting frame, and Jaskier didn’t much like the look of the sagging roof towards the end of the building. On a more positive note the chimney looked to be largely intact and some enterprising soul had blocked the broken window from the inside with what looked to be heavy burlap fabric nailed to the frame. A sturdy looking shelter off to the side of the building had clearly once been used to house sheep but looked big enough to comfortably shelter Roach. 

None of that mattered though, because the door sat mostly square in the frame, letters painstakingly carved in the wood reading “All Welcome.” and in the same hand beneath, a more recent addition, “Replace whatever you use.” Jaskier had had colder receptions from kings in golden palaces, and he looked between the lettering and Geralt with that hope that he had tried not to feel shining in his eyes. Geralt beckoned for him to wait, his head tilting slightly as he listened for a long moment. Jaskier didn’t breathe. If after all this the farmhouse turned out to be unsafe he wasn’t sure what he would do. After a moment that seemed to last forever Geralt looked back to Jaskier and nodded slightly and Jaskier felt the grin spreading, his relief warmer even than the shelter he was about to find. 

Jaskier skipped to the door, pausing for a moment before grabbing the handle but at Geralt’s go ahead he opened the door and breathed in the smell of cut wood. He stepped over the threshold. 

Inside the signs of the farmhouse being used as a resting place for countless travellers were more obvious, from the ramshackle pile of firewood next to the mostly clear fireplace, to the bed frame that had been dragged into the main room, to the two hard wearing and well worn blankets hanging from a rafter above. As he made his way further in he could see past the wall dividing what had once been the bedroom from the building at large and he smiled to see yet more firewood heaped against the wall as far away from the sagging roof he had noticed before as possible. It was no inn full of ribbon and bunting and midsummer wine, but it was here and it was better than any castle Jaskier had ever stayed in. 

He set about building a fire, happy in the knowledge that Geralt would be in shortly, with Roach should the shelter outside not prove suitable. To his surprise and pleasure he found a broken pot that someone had made use of to store bulrushes, making his work significantly easier without having to search high and low for dry tinder. 

By the time Geralt made an appearance with the saddlebags slung over his shoulder Jaskier had a merry little fire burning in the grate and the colour was starting to return to his fingers. Jaskier grinned up at him and then somehow impossibly smiled wider when Geralt smiled back down at him. As lovely as it was, it could not be allowed to distract Jaskier from the task at hand as he returned to wrestling his foot out of the sodden boot. 

Between the two of them they managed to get most everything they had been wearing laid out in front of the fire to dry, and Geralt, bless his heart and his fine quality saddlebags, managed to pull two dry shirts from somewhere within his belongings. Jaskier was not so lucky, finding his own spare shirts and doublet had successfully kept everything beneath them from being damaged by the small tear in his pack letting the rain in. Geralt sighed and tossed Jaskier the repair kit, followed by the smaller of the two black shirts. 

Jaskier did not blush when he put the shirt on, but it was a close run thing. It was a necessity, it didn’t mean anything he reminded himself as did up a couple of the fiddly buttons, finding that the shirt hung a little loose on his frame when left as it was. 

Finally, with the pressing issues of warmth and dry clothes and finding somewhere to sleep out of the way Jaskier could allow himself to relax. 

“You know Geralt,” he said, conversationally, “I don’t think any midsummer fire anywhere on the continent is as fine as ours tonight.” he gestured to the fireplace, where the fire was indeed crackling merrily. A small iron kettle was just starting to bubble over the flames. “I certainly don’t fancy their chances back in town.” He laughed, a sharp spiteful little thing and Geralt looked up in surprise. 

“Oh?” Geralt said, a clear indication for Jaskier to elaborate. 

“Well they had their bonfire already built in the square when we were there earlier…” Jaskier tailed off and as if the storm had been waiting for that perfect cue the lightning flashed outside, the thunder following less than a moment later, almost deafening. “I’m not sure even you could light a sodden bonfire in this.” 

“I wouldn’t like to try.” Geralt allowed, his voice a contented rumble. Caught up as he was in slightly vindictive glee Jaskier carried on. 

“And! On top of having no fire they clearly haven’t got any sort of decent bard. They were willing to hire me on the morning of, no entertainer worth their salt would stand for that snub so either they’ve got no bard at all or someone truly lacklustre.” Jaskier leaned back on his hands, stretching his legs as close to the fire as he dared. “So here we are with a warm fire, the finest bard on the continent, and significantly better company than they could dream of.” He glanced over at Geralt, who was watching him like he was saying something incomprehensible. 

“I’m not sure I would go as far as calling me better company.” Geralt said, breaking eye contact and staring into the fire instead. Jaskier felt the anger from earlier flare up in his gut, white hot and startling in it’s all consuming intensity. He stomped it down. His feelings could wait. 

“Let's look at it this way,” Jaskier said, keeping his tone as level as he possibly could. “On one hand we’ve got the kind of superstitious idiots that would turn away paying folk based on a storm you spotted on the horizon almost a week ago and who would build a bonfire with wet wood.” Jaskier cut himself off there, knowing now was not the time to go into depth on the long list of issues he had with the village and its inhabitants. “On the other hand I have you and Roach, who I’ve known for what? Twelve years now? Thirteen? It doesn’t matter, what matters is you’ve proven yourself over and over again to be a friend to me and worth following,” Jaskier tugged at his shirt and laughed, “you would quite literally give up the shirt off your back if you thought someone needed it! Not to mention Roach. In all my years I’ve never known a better horse.” Jaskier laughed again, a much happier sound this time and Geralt finally looked away from the fire and back to Jaskier. 

“She is a good horse.” Geralt said, a small smile on his face. 

“My friend she is the best horse and you are lucky she loves you so or I would have stolen her and ridden away within a week of meeting you.” Jaskier teased, knowing Geralt could spot a lie at a hundred feet and even more, and that he wouldn’t need to use a single one of his witchery senses to know that Jaskier would never take Roach. 

“She would chew through every doublet you own within a week.” Geralt said. 

“And she would deserve every one of them.” Jaskier agreed. “One day I’ll write a song just for her, just you wait.” He said, wiggling his toes in the warmth around the fire and sighing with content. “It would go something like this-” he started humming, knowing that it wasn’t the best way to debut any tune but sure Roach wouldn’t mind. He wasn’t sure he had enough feeling in his hands yet to play it properly. 

“I was under the impression most songs had words.” Geralt interrupted, that same teasing tone still there in his voice. 

“A masterpiece cannot be made overnight!” Jaskier rebuffed, gesturing wildly with one hand and nearly toppling over sideways. “And it shall be a masterpiece Geralt! Roach deserves nothing less!” Geralt laughed, and Jaskier found himself caught quite off guard by the sound. 

“More successful than Toss a Coin?” Geralt asked, indulgent. 

“More successful than any song that came before it or will ever come after.” Jaskier affirmed, gesturing slightly more carefully now. “In the meantime though you will simply have to deal with lesser fare for this, the finest of all midsummer celebrations.” Geralt smiled, and gestured for Jaskier to continue, so he did. 

The songs he chose weren’t traditional midsummer fare by any means, or even really songs for celebration at all. They were mostly songs about fire and warmth in the cold, meant for long winter nights but suited to the backdrop of rain on the roof and the crackling of the fire. Geralt seemed to enjoy them well enough, staying still other than when he took the kettle from the fire, preparing warm drinks for the pair of them in silence while Jaskier sang softly. After a few more songs he looked over to Geralt, who was watching him, seemingly enraptured. 

“Any requests?” Jaskier found himself asking, a sleepy imitation of his usual showmanship. “Any at all?” Geralt shook his head, but after a moment seemed to make a different decision. 

“Something that you like singing.” He said, and after a long pause where Jaskier tried to figure out what he meant, “Something you sing when nobody is listening.” Jaskier’s eyes widened with surprise. All the songs in the world that he could sing fled his mind at once, bar one. 

“Are you sure?” He asked, “You’ve got the continent’s greatest bard at your disposal here.” 

“I’m sure.” Geralt said, not looking away. 

“Okay then,” Jaskier said, knowing that he was past the point of no return on this decision now. 

It wasn’t a polished song, and he wasn’t sure he would ever be ready to perform it. All his songs were about Geralt as the White Wolf, but this one was about Geralt as someone he loved, and it showed. It didn’t focus on battles and glory and heroics and whatever destiny was clinging to them at the time, but on all the myriad of little things Jaskier had fallen in love with. It never mentioned Geralt by name, and indeed the whole thing was wrapped up in a narrative about a knight in the quiet hours between battles, but there was nobody else it could be about, not really. Not for anyone who knew Jaskier. 

Geralt did not look away from Jaskier until long after the last note had faded. Jaskier felt like he was trapped under that gaze, but he had been for years now. He smiled and shook himself and stretched, groaning in satisfaction as his back cracked. 

“You know, I think I’m just about ready to turn in.” He said, not willing to linger any longer on the song and the feelings involved. “I like our chances with that bedframe if we pull one of those blankets down onto it and then sleep in our bedrolls?” The bedframe was large, a sturdy hardwood thing clearly meant for a couple but most importantly, it was an off the floor place to sleep and by far preferable to the cold stone of the farmhouse. Geralt froze for a moment before he too shook himself slightly and seemed to come back to reality. 

“Yeah, let me just check on Roach and we’ll bank the fire.” Geralt said, sounding almost flustered. Jaskier didn’t question it, too busy setting about pulling down the two blankets from the rafters and using them to cover the slats of the bed frame. Satisfied that he had made the bed as comfy as possible he dug their bedrolls out for the night. 

By the time Geralt returned, Jaskier was already tucked up and snuggled down into Geralt's shirt, half asleep but just aware enough to feel Geralt’s arm pull him closer, the warmth of Geralt’s chest against his back feeling like safety. He fell asleep to the sound of Geralt’s steady breathing and the comfort of being held. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is inspired by my own experiences with leaky boots and soggy socks but more importantly by bothy culture! I like to believe that in a world so full of wanderers and so full of abandoned places (at least within the witcher 3) there would be a thriving bothy culture, though I doubt they would use that word as that's a very british name for it. [Bothies are just super cool okay?](https://www.mountainbothies.org.uk/bothies/what-is-a-bothy/)
> 
> [Art for this chapter can be found here!!!](https://goshdraws.tumblr.com/post/621773303181377537/my-second-piece-for-this-amazing-fic-by)


	4. Chapter 4

Geralt squeezed Jaskier tighter for a moment, before moving to put him down. Jaskier clung on tighter, not sure he could stay standing with the realisation that of all the things in the world Geralt could have fallen in love with him for, it had been the worst day in the world and quiet songs in a storm. Geralt brought him back down, his boots once again on solid ground. Jaskier assumed he would be walking from there but Geralt didn't release him. 

“You were so angry at them.” Geralt said, a note of awe in his voice, and this close jaskier could almost see the wonder in his eyes. “Ready to fight an entire village for wronging me. It wasn’t something I ever expected to have.” 

“They would have deserved it.” Jaskier said, absolutely sure. Truth be told he was still angry about it now, a full year later. That village and every single person in it, as well as every other person who had turned their back on Geralt before or since. But his anger wasn’t helpful in the storm and it wasn’t helpful now, so he let it go. He would use it when he was writing, changing the continent’s opinion on his love one song at a time. 

“You’re doing it again.” Geralt said, jolting him from his thoughts. “You get so angry and then you let it flow away like it was never there.” Jaskier huffed, not quite sure how to disagree without sounding like an ass. “Or you don’t let it go, and you turn it into joy out of spite.” Geralt smiled, and pulled Jaskier in tighter for a moment before letting him go. Jaskier stood there mutely for a moment, a thousand thoughts clamouring for his attention, before Geralt took his hand once more and started to lead him along the path. 

“So you saw me getting spiteful and decided that you loved me?” Jaskier asked, turning to humour to try to mask the rush of emotions currently flying through him. He felt warm and squishy and off balance and happier than he had been in years. 

“I saw you turn down a warm bed in a town that would have welcomed you, follow me into the rain and then turn around and have a perfect evening out of pure spite.” Geralt corrected, giving Jaskier no chance to compose himself. “How could I not follow you anywhere after that?” 

Jaskier wasn’t sure where the noise he made at that came from, but it felt like Geralt had just knocked the breath out of him in the best possible way. He felt giddy, like his feet were lighter than air and he wasn’t walking so much as floating. Lost for words, he resorted to squeezing Geralt’s hand instead, trying to put everything he felt into that one small gesture and knowing that nobody else in the world would be able to know what he meant but Geralt would. 

They walked in silence for a short while, Jaskier never letting go of Geralt’s hand even when the path got twistier or more overgrown in places before clearing and widening again. More sunlight filtered through the trees as they walked, the gaps in the canopy widening as they started to come towards an edge of the woodland. 

"We're nearly there." Geralt said, before something like mischief crept into his eyes and he smiled. "Do you trust me?" 

"I think we've established at this point I trust you with my life." Jaskier said, smiling back. He squeezed Geralt’s hand, unsure what the other man was planning but happy to go along with it. 

“Then close your eyes.” 

* * *

Walking with his eyes closed proved to be less of a challenge than Jaskier was expecting, Geralt’s hand in his leading the way and his voice offering warnings before the slightest inconvenience. He was probably making much slower progress than he would be usually but he found that he minded it less than he thought he would. The temptation to open his eyes just to watch the floor and make walking easier was there, but he knew that he would end up peeking if he let himself have even an inch and Geralt seemed very excited about the surprise. 

After what was probably a much shorter walk than it felt to Jaskier, Geralt stopped moving forwards. Jaskier stayed still, not wanting to move without guidance or open his eyes until he knew it was time. Despite his determination to not ruin the surprise Jaskier allowed himself to pause and take in everything he could, drinking in the sensations that he would never have normally noticed with open eyes. 

The breeze was warm and sweet on his cheek and he could feel the warmth of sunlight against his eyelids. The steady hum of insects provided backing to the birdsong that seemed to come from every direction. Most noticeable though was the smell. Where before there had been the damper smells of the woodland floor and the faintest smell of wild garlic coming to the end of its season, now there were a thousand fresh green smells all overlapping one another. He couldn’t pick out anything in particular, limited to only human senses, but the overwhelming feel was floral and clear and clean.

“Are you ready?” Geralt’s voice came from just by his left shoulder, his body a solid warmth against Jaskier’s back. Jaskier nodded and felt Geralt settle in behind him, both hands on his waist. “Open your eyes.” 

The first thing that registered was colour. The world in front of Jaskier was a riot of yellow and white and red and little spots of blue all against a backdrop of lush green. He blinked, taking a moment to focus after so long with his eyes closed and the colours resolved themselves into wildflowers. There was a meadow stretching out in front of him, bordered on all sides by woodland, cowslips and poppies and vibrant yellow ragwort and a hundred others Jaskier didn’t know to name all swaying in the breeze. Nearer to him, Jaskier could see smaller flowers thriving at the edge of the meadow, speedwells and forget-me-nots and the bright buttercups he had named himself for. It felt like something from a dream.

The two of them stood at the edge of the meadow on the bare ground beneath a truly massive sycamore tree. Jaskier leaned back into Geralt’s hold as he continued to stare out at the scene in front of him. 

“So?” Geralt prompted, “What do you think?” 

“It’s incredible,” Jaskier said, gesturing out at the expanse, “I don't know what I was expecting but-" he tailed off, not sure where the sentence had been going, and resorted to twisting in Geralt's arms so he could see his face. Golden eyes seemed to glow in the summer sunlight and Jaskier could read the love in them as easily as breathing and Jaskier found that words were less important than pulling Geralt into a kiss. 

It was not a kiss of fire and passion and great romances, not the sort that Jaskier would sing about years from now. Geralt, not expecting it, took a moment to respond and even when he did neither of them could stop smiling long enough for anything beyond a giggly mess of lips and huffed laughter. It was perfect. Eventually Jaskier leaned away, laughter rising in his chest, and just stared at Geralt for a moment. Geralt stared back. 

"I love you." Jaskier said, at a loss for any words beyond that. Geralt leaned in and dropped one last kiss against Jaskier's lips, a brief moment of contact and then gone again as Geralt rested their foreheads together instead. 

"I love you." He murmured, quiet words for nobody but Jaskier to hear. Jaskier wanted to stay in that moment forever, the both of them breathless from laughing kisses and absolutely sure in each other. 

Eventually though, Geralt stepped back and Jaskier spotted Geralt's pack at the base of the tree behind them. It had fallen open when Geralt had dropped it and Jaskier could just about get a glimpse of the contents. At a glance there looked to be several packages wrapped in paper and string as well as what looked to be a dark glass bottle of everluce. Geralt followed his gaze and shrugged.

"I seem to remember you having a fondness for pastries and sweets when you get the chance and, well, I promised you a perfect midsummer." Geralt said, almost sheepish. Jaskier was delighted, already moving towards the bag to see exactly what Geralt had brought. 

Before he could start opening packages Geralt pulled him away with one hand on his shoulder, an indulgent smile on his face as he moved all the packages off to one side and pulled a hard wearing blanket from the bottom of the pack. Understanding dawned as Geralt spread the blanket out and started placing the packages off the dirt. It was by all means a sensible call and Jaskier felt himself go giddy when he thought back to a childhood of hearing his sisters chattering about picnics with their admirers. He found himself completely taken by the romance of it all as he sat down on the rug and pulled Geralt down after him. 

Geralt ended up with his head in Jaskier's lap and Jaskier wasted no time shuffling them until they were both stretched out comfortably in the dappled light beneath the leaves. Happy with their positions Jaskier turned to the packages again, pleased to note a pair of fat waterskins in amongst everything else. Geralt had intended to make sure the pair of them wanted for nothing today it seemed. 

He reached for the nearest package and lifted it, feeling the weight and shape of it in his hands before he set it back down and went to untying the string holding it closed. He was absolutely delighted to discover the package contained two thick slices of honey cake. Geralt must have been up with the dawn to get this fresh from the baker that morning and Jaskier let himself take a moment just to bask in the feeling of being seen and loved. Geralt had been up and out before anybody would reasonably be awake that morning just to make sure he had his favourite treat today. 

He broke off a corner of one of the slices and popped it in his mouth, closing his eyes and letting the sweetness wash over him before looking down at Geralt to voice his thanks. Geralt was sprawled out on his back, completely at ease with his head resting in Jaskier's lap, white hair spread out over Jaskier's legs like the finest silk. Jaskier wanted to run his hands through it but then considered the honey cake he was holding and thought better of it, instead breaking off another mouthful sized piece and offering it to Geralt. If he was surprised by that, Geralt didn't let it show for long as he gently took the cake from Jaskier's fingers with his teeth. He hummed in contentment as he ate and Jaskier found himself passing the time breaking off small pieces of the cake and sharing it between them. The whole first slice went this way before Jaskier carefully wrapped the second back in its paper and reached for a waterskin to wash it down. He offered it down to Geralt once he was done before carefully wiping his hands clean. 

"You know Geralt," he said, more conversational than anything, "we used to make flower crowns for our beloved as part of the midsummer festivities when I was young." Geralt raised a questioning eyebrow at him before glancing over at the meadow. "I was never particularly good at it, or I would have had you in flowers years ago." He admitted, starting to run his fingers through Geralt's hair. It was exactly as soft as it looked, freshly washed and still tangle free after their bath the night before. 

"We could work it out?" Geralt offered, eyes half closed as he leaned into Jaskier's touch. Jaskier did not scratch him behind the ears as he smiled down at Geralt, but it was a close run thing. Instead he separated a section of hair into three strands as he fiddled. 

"I'm much better at braids," he said, ready to push his luck a little. "It's no crown of course, but I think it might be less irritating for you than a crown that keeps falling down over your ears." 

"And what about you?" Geralt asked, confusing Jaskier for a moment before he elaborated, "Your hair isn't long enough to braid." Geralt's voice was rich with laughter even as Jaskier could see the serious intent on his face. As silly as it was apparently Geralt truly did intend to make sure they were both wearing flowers. 

"We'll work it out together then. Braids for you and a crown for me." Jaskier said, running his fingers through Geralt's hair one last time before releasing him. "Though I think it might take a while." 

Geralt heaved himself out of Jaskier's lap and stood in one fluid movement, seemingly effortless, before turning back to offer Jaskier a hand up. Jaskier took it and tried not to squeak in surprise as Geralt pulled him up and then in, until he found himself within kissing distance once again. The taste of honey cake still lingered on Geralt's lips and Jaskier spent a few leisurely minutes finding every speck of it before remembering the task at hand. When he pulled back Geralt was looking at him with that same expression of love and wonder that Jaskier had struggled to identify for all those years. His own face probably looked similar. 

"Come on," he said, breaking the moment and leading Geralt towards the meadow, "I've been promised flowers." 

He made his way out into the open, confident that Geralt would follow after a moment. The rest of the food could wait until it seemed important again in comparison to the flower crowns. There were so many flowers here that Jaskier found himself at a loss, unsure where to begin choosing. 

There were a thousand flowers here and Geralt, beautiful bastard that he was, would look good in all of them. It left Jaskier the conundrum of where to start. He liked the idea of weaving hundreds of tiny blue forget-me-nots into one sturdy toussaint style braid, but equally he liked the idea of running two delicate braids from above Geralt's ears round to the back and securing them together, leaving the rest of his hair loose and tucking as many different flowers as he desired behind the braids. A glint of bright yellow caught his eye as a buttercup caught the sun and Jaskier smiled as he picked it, all other ideas discarded at the idea of marking Geralt as his, even in this most impermanent of ways. He couldn't make Geralt a true flower crown, but he was confident in his ability to do a crown braid. Geralt would look like some sort of golden being with a halo of yellow flowers, as many and as varied as he could find but with the buttercups in pride of place.

He looked back to Geralt, who had wasted no time on choosing flowers and had already gathered quite the collection while Jaskier had been caught by indecision. He seemed to be going for any flowers that struck his fancy with no regard to colour or size or even how well suited they may be to being woven together into a crown. It would certainly make for an interesting time and possibly several more flower hunting trips while they worked it out but Jaskier couldn't judge, cheating as he was with using Geralt's hair as a base for his own efforts. Geralt noticed him looking and glanced down at Jaskier's hands, waving his own flowers smugly at Jaskier's single buttercup. 

Jaskier took it as a challenge and set about finding as many yellow flowers as the meadow was willing to give him. Buttercups were pleasantly abundant but he also filled his bundle with celandine and cat's ear and the biggest dandelions he could find. It was while he was picking the dandelions that he noticed the dandelion clocks. They were everywhere, delicate white puffballs among the bright flowers. 

He brought one to his lips and blew, watching the seeds scatter onto the breeze and begin to float upwards. Amused, he picked a few more and blew on the whole handful, laughing at the veritable explosion of dandelion seeds. 

He looked over to Geralt, giddy, and startled at how close he had gotten while Jaskier had been distracted with the blowballs. Geralt looked to him, then the seeds floating on the breeze and Jaskier could see that an idea had caught but he wasn't sure what until Geralt looked back to him with a smile on his face that screamed mischief. Geralt moved all of his flowers over to one hand, leaving the other free as he came up behind Jaskier, leaning against his back as he had done when they first arrived at the meadow. The hand holding the flowers pulled Jaskier in close while the other reached out in front of them both. Jaskier craned his neck to look at Geralt, but no explanation was forthcoming, only a raise of the eyebrows and a slight gesture of the chin to tell Jaskier to look forwards. Jaskier did and almost as soon as he was, Geralt's hand moved. 

Jaskier had seen Aard before, has even likened it to a mighty gust of wind once in a song. That did not prepare him for the power of it up close, air rushing forwards in its wake. Behind Geralt's hand as he was he was in no danger and he could watch as the grasses and flowers were buffeted as if in a high gale. The dandelion seeds flew. 

All of a sudden Jaskier's explosion of seeds from before seemed paltry as every dandelion clock within reach of Geralt's Aard didn't so much release their seeds as explode, leaving the air full of the tiny floating seeds. They spun and twirled in the aftermath of the sign, looking almost as though they were dancing. Jaskier laughed in delight, wriggling out of Geralt's hold to run through them, not caring when they caught in his hair or on his clothes. He threw his arms out wide and spun, dancing with the dandelion seeds.

When he stopped he found himself stumbling as the world continued spinning without him. Before he could fall he found himself back in Geralt's arms, caught. He took a moment to wait for the world to calm, leaning into the embrace.

"They say you get a wish when you blow on a dandelion clock." He said, once the dizziness had faded.

"I think between us we've probably had enough wishes for a lifetime." Geralt said and Jaskier couldn't help but agree, and besides, in this moment he wasn't sure what he would wish for.

He was loved, and held, and he had a long afternoon in the sun with his beloved ahead of him. He had a perfect midsummer, and a thousand other perfect days to follow it. Jaskier tucked a buttercup behind Geralt's ear and smiled. There was nothing he would wish for. 

Later, they would sit back on the blanket and puzzle out the mysteries of making a flower crown together over whatever food rested in the other parcels. They would share the other half of the honey cake. They would kiss and talk and laugh and Jaskier would sing if Geralt wanted. But that was later, and now all he wanted to do was pull Geralt closer. Everything else could wait.

They had all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I’m @yeetacoin on tumblr for Witcher nonsense and @boot-prints for everything else!


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